**Diary Entry – 15th June**
My husband left me for my best friend after my miscarriagethree years later, I bumped into them at a petrol station and couldnt stop smiling.
When my husband started pulling away, I turned to my closest friend for comfort. She told me I was overreacting. Turns out, I wasnt. But fate had a way of showing me the consequences of their betrayal three years down the line.
I used to think affairs happened to other peoplesomething you read about in tabloids or overhear in hushed gossip at the pub. Not to us. Not to *us*.
For five years, James and I built a life together. It wasnt extravagant, but it was oursfilm nights on the sofa, lazy Sunday mornings with tea, inside jokes that only we understood. And through it all, there was Emmamy best friend since secondary school, my sister in everything but blood. She stood by me at our wedding, holding my bouquet, crying happy tears.
When I got pregnant, I thought it was the next chapter of our perfect life. But then James changed.
At first, it was little thingslate nights at the office, smiles that never reached his eyes. Then it got worse. He barely looked at me. Conversations became one-word replies. Nights were spent with his back turned, as if I werent even there.
I was exhausted, heavily pregnant, desperate to fix whatever had broken between us. So I called Emma.
I dont know whats happening, I sobbed into the phone, curled up in the dark while James slept soundly beside me. Its like hes already gone.
Sophie, youre overthinking it, she said gently. He loves you. Its just stress.
I wanted to believe her.
But the constant tensionsleepless nights, the gnawing loneliness despite having a husbandwore me down. Then, one morning, I woke to a dull ache in my stomach. By evening, I was in hospital, staring at the doctors moving lips but hearing nothing.
No heartbeat.
No baby.
They say grief comes in waves. Mine was a flood.
The miscarriage shattered me, but James? He was already gone. He sat beside me in that hospital room, cold and silent. No hand to hold, no words of comfort. Just a man waiting for a bus, not mourning his child.
A month later, he finally said the words I think hed rehearsed for weeks.
Im not happy anymore, Sophie.
That was it. No explanation, no emotion. Just an empty excuse.
The day James left, there were no shouts, no tears. Just icy silence.
Im not happy anymore, Sophie.
I blinked at him across the kitchen table. His words sat heavy in my chest.
What? My voice trembled.
He sighed, rubbing his temples like *I* was the problem. I just dont feel anything anymore. Its been a long time.
A long time.
I swallowed. Since we lost the baby?
His jaw tightened. Its not about that.
The lie was almost laughable.
I searched his face for any sign of remorse. Nothing.
Just like that? Five years, and you walk away? My fists clenched under the table.
Another sigh, this time irritated. I dont want to argue, Sophie.
I laughedthe kind of laugh that comes when youre dangling off the edge.
Oh, *you* dont want to argue? Funny, because I didnt get a choice in any of this.
He stood, grabbed his keys. Ill stay at a mates.
The door slammed before I could reply.
Emma, my best friend, followed soon after. Shed been my rock. Then, suddenly, she vanishedignored calls, blocked messages. I didnt understand until I did.
Mum found out first. One evening, she rang, her voice tight. Sophie, love look at this.
She sent me a link to Emmas Instagram.
There they were.
James and Emma. Grinning on a beach, looking like theyd been in love for years.
I scrolled, hands shaking. Fancy restaurants, ski trips, cosy nights by the fire. Posted freelywhile I was still his wife.
The betrayal burned. But if they thought Id crumble, they were wrong.
I took my pain and turned it into fuel. James had been careless, too wrapped up in his fantasy to cover his tracks. In court, his infidelity became my leverage. I walked away with the house, half his savings, and the satisfaction of knowing he had to start over.
He took my trust. I took what was mine.
Starting over wasnt easy. But life rewards persistence.
A year later, I met Oliver.
He was nothing like Jameskinder, patient, never dismissive. We built a real life, not just one for social media. And soon, we welcomed our daughtermy spitting image with his smile.
Then fate gave me the perfect ending.
One evening, I stopped at a petrol station. And there they were.
James and Emma.
No designer clothes, no happy snaps. Just a rusted car, a screaming row over a declined card, and a crying toddler.
We cant even afford *petrol*? Emma hissed.
You knew money was tight, James snapped.
Emma laughed bitterly. Guess Sophie won in the end.
I started the car and drove home. To my real happiness.
**Lesson learned:** Karma doesnt rush, but it always arrives. And sometimes, the best revenge is living well.
